


Walking Away

by Maplefudge



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-16
Updated: 2008-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maplefudge/pseuds/Maplefudge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamamoto wasn’t a man who experienced strong feelings of frustration. He was someone who always had an expression that looked far from upset. When his lips weren’t quirked into that smirk that Gokudera hated so much, it would be blank, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes looking distantly. But even then he wouldn’t look like he was thinking about anything bad—he actually looked like he wasn’t thinking of anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Away

**Author's Note:**

> This was totally all [](http://thisistony.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thisistony.livejournal.com/)**thisistony** 's idea, who is awesome. It was also her idea to put Goku/Tsuna in, but... MY GOD, I think I failed at that. I really tried, I really, really did. There's still some of it, but... not as much as I wanted? Why is it so difficult to write that pairing? Goku/Tsuna writers, you are all awesome. :(

**Series:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn  
 **Title:** Walking Away  
 **Pairings:** Yamamoto/Gokudera, slight Gokudera/Tsuna, slight Tsuna/Kyoko **  
**Rating: T  
 **Words:** 2,323  
 **Notes:** This was totally all [](http://thisistony.livejournal.com/profile)[**thisistony**](http://thisistony.livejournal.com/)'s idea, who is awesome. It was also her idea to put Goku/Tsuna in, but... MY GOD, I think I failed at that. I really tried, I really, really did. There's still some of it, but... not as much as I wanted? Why is it so difficult to write that pairing? Goku/Tsuna writers, you are all awesome. :(

  


………………………

Yamamoto wasn’t a man who experienced strong feelings of frustration. He was someone who always had an expression that looked far from upset. When his lips weren’t quirked into that smirk that Gokudera hated so much, it would be blank, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes looking distantly. But even then he wouldn’t look like he was thinking about anything bad—he actually looked like he wasn’t thinking of anything at all.

Of course, nobody actually believed he was just _that_ happy, they just all thought he was very good at hiding his anger and sadness, something most of them idolized him for. It was obvious he was putting a façade, because when did you ever see someone smile like nothing was wrong when they just received news that their dad was assassinated? Everyone knew he had spent hours cutting up the straw puppets in the training hall, never relenting as if they were the Millefiore bastards—Yamamoto was so angry but he never didn't intend to show it in front of them, not for matters he couldn't do a thing for.

That was Yamamoto, always unpredictable (according to Tsuna), positive (according to Kyoko), and just _fucking weird_ (according to Gokudera, of course).

………………………

“Are you avoiding Yamamoto?”

Gokudera looked surprised at the question, and he tried to peer at Tsuna who was hidden behind stacks of paper that were on his desk. “Why would I be avoiding that freak, Tenth?”

Tsuna shrugged, adjusted the wristwatch that was still too loose. “I don’t know… maybe because you seem angry at him for some reason.”

“When have I _not_ been pissed at Yamamoto.”

Looking up at him with a heavy sigh, Tsuna nodded in defeat, even though he knew Gokudera was clearly lying. One reason was that Gokudera never spoke to him in that tone where his questions were said like statements, defining his mood as, indeed, pissed off. Secondly, he never said Yamamoto’s name—unless he was _really_ pissed at said person.

Just at that moment, the door to Tsuna’s office opened and in came Yamamoto, back from a meeting. A grin was plastered on his face. Tsuna saw the cringe on Gokudera’s face, noted it.

“Hey, Tsuna, we got the deal!” Yamamoto exclaimed as he walked near Tsuna’s desk and clapped Gokudera on the back, just because he was _right there_ , and Gokudera growled and almost punched him in the face—thought better of it and just left the room.

Yamamoto blinked and saw the just-as-confused look on Tsuna’s face, and he waved to excuse himself before running right after Gokudera.

“Hey, Gokudera! Gokudera!”

The Storm Guardian rounded a corner, walking in a quicker pace, almost running. He could hear Yamamoto coming closer, that idiot and his fucking long limbs and that fucking happy face and—

“Gokudera!” Yamamoto called out, finally reaching him and holding him back with a hand on his wrist. His calloused fingers were warm against Gokudera’s skin, and the Storm Guardian felt a shiver— _why?_ —and used all his willpower not to do something extremely violent that involved his dynamite. Instead, he shook his hand out of Yamamoto’s grip. Yamamoto obediently withdrew his hold and asked, “Hey, what’s wrong? Haven’t seen you in… what, a week? Haha, I mean, ever since Lambo’s party. You’re always sticking to Tsuna and all, going with him to all those out of town missions!”

He was rambling. Why was he rambling.

“Nothing.” Gokudera replied simply.

Gokudera’s eyes were piercing, and Yamamoto felt himself choke down a knot in his throat out of nervousness. What did he mean, ‘nothing’? He had said so many words that he couldn’t even remember what his question was. While Yamamoto stood there trying to remember his question, Gokudera stalked away again, his shoulders perfectly squared into a barrier of annoyance.

………………………

To say that it was difficult for Yamamoto would be an understatement. He felt ripped off, pissed to the bone, but he was Yamamoto and it just came naturally that he didn’t complain. He felt like he lost a best friend—two, actually. Somehow, after a while, it just became awkward to approach Gokudera who did nothing but turn away from him. It became both awkward and embarrassing, and Gokudera was always trailing behind Tsuna, so Yamamoto couldn’t approach him, either.

Tsuna (and everyone else) kind of noticed what was going on, but as usual, nobody bothered to say a thing. It would be sorted out eventually, really.

But Yamamoto was starting to get tired of it—and he was starting to feel something which he deemed strange, just like that time he had a huge crush on this girl back in kindergarten, but that girl always kept talking to this other kid who happened to be his best friend. Damn, now he was being nostalgic.

He just couldn’t _understand_. A few weeks ago, he thought he was finally getting somewhere with Gokudera. It was like Gokudera was finally starting to, well, _tolerate_ him. There was even that one time where they watched this movie (Yamamoto forgot the title) in the base, just the two of them. It was all guns and blood, and Gokudera had this huge smirk on his face that said he was enjoying. The customary sex scene came, of course, and that had been awkward. Yamamoto was making noise to break the tension by biting on his straw, and instead of telling him to shut up like usual, Gokudera just shrank into his seat with a visible frown.

And his cheeks had been red. Why was that?

Well. It had been awkward. Very, _very_ awkward.

And then—shit, Yamamoto thought. His _own_ cheeks were starting to burn, and he excused himself to refill his drink just to avoid it (why did those damn sex scenes always have to be so long?) and all Gokudera answered was a ‘whatever’ and a grunt.

Then there was that _other_ day that puzzled Yamamoto so much that he didn’t even intend to try and translate it. They had been fighting, as usual, as always, because they didn’t agree on one thing or another and Gokudera _always_ exploded in the end. And there were times when Yamamoto couldn’t put on a façade and pretend it was okay, and Gokudera was one of the few people who could bring out that anger in him.

He couldn’t remember why or how (and he doubted Gokudera could, either, or if he even cared at that point) but Gokudera’s face was an inch away and Yamamoto could feel his warm breath on his neck. Gokudera was muttering something in Italian, and his fingers were curved around Yamamoto’s collar. And Yamamoto didn’t know why he did—he just did it, leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Gokudera.

“What the fuck do you want, Yamamoto Takeshi?”

He didn’t hesitate, he said, “Maybe I want you.”

The Storm Guardian didn’t budge and what the _hell_ was going on now, because they had always set boundaries in the past, and this was way past any possible boundary. And before he knows it, Gokudera pushes him painfully against the wall—then he walks away, like always.

It takes Yamamoto a while to remember that Gokudera is not a trusting person.

………………………

Another celebration—this time, it’s Kyoko’s birthday, and the feast she and Haru laid out was amazing. There was alcohol, of course, but Yamamoto refused to take any. The last time he did, he got so drunk he couldn’t remember a thing, except that he probably agreed to be Ryohei’s punching bag (who was probably just as drunk) because his body ached all over.

Yamamoto looked across the room where Gokudera was cheering Tsuna on, who had a small box in his palm. Tsuna was looking at Kyoko nervously, who didn’t suspect a thing. Tsuna was still kind of a kid when it came to Kyoko, and Yamamoto found it amusing, and he would have helped out (well, not really, maybe just make silly suggestions) if he have brought himself to go anywhere near Gokudera.

“It’s okay, Tenth! I got your back,” Gokudera was telling him, and Tsuna was nodding furiously but he _wasn’t moving_. When Tsuna finally agreed to do it, Gokudera watched him from afar, and Yamamoto watched Gokudera.

Yamamoto watched as Gokudera watched Tsuna shyly hand the gift over to Kyoko. Gokudera was not grinning like he always was every time Tsuna accomplished something, but he was smiling, in a rather sad way. Just like that time Yamamoto smiled when his best friend back in kindergarten said that the girl he liked was rather cute. Yamamoto had smiled because, well, it kind of hurt, but he wasn’t going to do a thing about it.

Yamamoto realized, Gokudera liked Tsuna. Of course he did, after fawning over him, head to toe and back, running after him everywhere. Yamamoto now thought he understood the reason why Gokudera kept pushing him away.

………………………

“You know it’s not going to work, right?” Yamamoto said. “How you’re doing it, I mean.”

Gokudera eyed him, didn’t say a thing.

“I mean, if you like someone, you should just say it, haha.” Grinning widely, Yamamoto was playing with a slinky he had found on the kitchen room. He assumed it was Lambo’s. “You should just say it.”

If Gokudera wasn’t going to speak to him, he was going to make the first step. If Gokudera liked Tsuna, then that was something Yamamoto had to live with, really.

Gokudera was snarling, crushing a cigarette on the marble top counter. “Sometimes the person isn’t too bright, fucking baseball freak.”

Yamamoto blinked. Okay, so maybe Tsuna was a bit clueless at times—he just never thought Gokudera would admit it. “That’s why you should just tell Tsuna.”

“Tsu—what? The tenth?” Gokudera’s eyes were huge, staring. He was suddenly, visibly angry. “The _tenth_?”

He felt so angry, like he wanted to punch Yamamoto, _again_. Maybe start another fight, but ever since _that_ incident, Gokudera avoided that at all costs. And it just came naturally to Gokudera to lie, even though part of it was probably true. He started, “The Tenth has better things to worry abo—“

Then Yamamoto’s hand was grasping his shoulder. Gokudera flinched.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why?” Yamamoto stared at him. “How come you’re way more irritated at me than before?”

“Take your fucking hand off,” Gokudera snarled, and Yamamoto tightened his grasp, provoking. He needed to provoke Gokudera, because a Storm had to unleash its anger before you could fully understand it. And Yamamoto was good at that, at breaking Gokudera, and understanding him—but the latter, he couldn’t do so well lately.

And before he knew it, Gokudera had slammed both his fists on Yamamoto’s chest and was pushing him backwards until his spine hit the concrete wall. It was all too familiar.

“Don’t get cute with me, Yamamoto Takeshi.” Gokudera was pressing his knuckles on his skin, and he could feel the sharp metal of his rings pressing junctures on his chest. He was hissing in Yamamoto’s ears, his teeth unconsciously grazing his neck, but Gokudera was too angry to notice those small details—“Do you understand?”

“Gokudera—“ Yamamoto strained his neck to look down on Gokudera and saw the heated, angry stare he was being thrown at. “Why are you so angry—“

He stopped short, images suddenly flooding—

_Gokudera was straddling him. His hands were tangled in Gokudera’s silver hair, and Gokudera was pressing kisses against his temple. The Storm Guardian was saying something, then in Italian, and then in the language he could understand, “You said you wanted this, didn’t you?”_

_There was a strong smell of alcohol in the air, and Yamamoto couldn’t tell what to reply to his question, but it didn’t really matter as he unbuttoned Gokudera’s shirt and pressed his mouth against the cuts and bruises on his chest, trailing up to his neck and murmuring something intelligible._

_“I said I wanted this,” Yamamoto finally answered, his words slurred, but he could hear himself. He took in a sudden breath when he felt warm hands wrap around his length (when was he even unzipped?) and it felt so unbelievably good, and it was _Gokudera_ , which made it even better._

“Gokudera!” Yamamoto’s eyes were wide. “You—I…”

They stared at each other for a while. Gokudera had let go, stepped back, he was a foot away.

A whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me? Gokudera?”

But Gokudera didn’t answer, just turned around to leave—again. At least he tried to, because Yamamoto had suddenly grabbed him and enveloped him tightly from behind. Yamamoto was biting his neck, and he couldn’t help but groan and tilt his head to unconsciously give him more access.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yamamoto seemed upset. Gokudera was trying to get away. Unsuccessful.

 _Gokudera had woken up, his back aching, and the room still smelled of liquor. He looked over at Yamamoto, who was still asleep and had _all__ clothes on. The Storm Guardian got up and left the room as silently as he could. Gokudera had insisted the previous night that they get dressed right after they were done, because it would be too weird to get caught, and because, well—

He thought Yamamoto wouldn’t remember, and it would be too awkward to explain later on.

He was right.

Yamamoto had asked him if he knew what had happened the night before, because his body ached and he couldn’t remember a thing.

“Because you’re a fucking moron,” and Gokudera couldn’t help it so he smashed his elbow right into Yamamoto’s stomach and heard the pained ‘oof’, and he stepped away from Yamamoto. The Rain Guardian was staring at him with a frown and rubbing his stomach.

Then Gokudera grabbed him by the shirt again and smashed their lips together, because he remembered now, and that meant he could be forgiven.

**End.**


End file.
